


Stray

by MirrorMystic



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Rogue Catra AU, just two pals talking it out, there may also be smooches involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: In another life, when Adora takes Catra’s hand at the battle of Thaymor, Catra doesn’t let go.At least, not right away.





	Stray

**Author's Note:**

> As much as we'd all like to see Catra and Adora back together on the same side, I don't quite see Catra joining the Rebellion without a hitch. But Catra going rogue, to have the time and space to sort out her messy feelings? *That's* something I can get behind, and I hope you can, too. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the read! And if you do, come find me on Twitter at @mystic_writes !

~*~  
  
On her first night in Bright Moon, Catra has to remind herself she’s a guest and not a spy.  
  
Bright Moon is nothing like the Fright Zone. It’s almost comically ostentatious, bright and gleaming. When Adora had first shown Catra her room, Catra had to try not to laugh at her for just how gaudy and over-the-top the place was. Although, admittedly, Catra didn’t try very hard.  
  
Adora’s new friends are another story. At least their names are easy to remember: Bow, the guy with the bow. Glimmer, the glimmering pixie. Glimmer reminds Catra of a hummingbird, always flitting around, leering, open in her distrust. Bow, on the other hand, tries his best to be friendly. He’s always the first to greet her, wave at her, clap a hand on her shoulder and then shrink away when she glares at him. Nice guy that he is, Catra can still see the fear flickering under his skin. She supposes that’s only natural for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. Or his chest.  
  
Bright Moon was so… bright. And big. Cold, too. The Fright Zone might have been grimy and industrial, and you had to tune out the noise of the reactors clunking all night, but at least it was warm.  
  
Maybe that was something Catra could get used to. Eventually.  
  
So she tries. She really does. She does it for Adora, because at this point she’s not sure what she _wouldn’t_ do for that girl. She goes with Adora to meet Queen Angella, stands just a step behind her when Adora pledges herself to the Rebellion and mumbles her way through her own vows. She sits in on council meetings, never straying too far from Adora’s side. She even goes with Adora on her mission to Plumeria, and tries not to roll her eyes at Adora’s plight-- because, oh no, the shiny First Ones sword gave me cool new powers, but not _enough_ , I _guess_.  
  
But she tries not to think about that. She tries not to think about the three little figurines of Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, sitting on Adora’s windowsill. She tries not to think about Glimmer constantly giving her the sassy side-eye, and wondering if she should read into that-- although, Catra kinda likes that about her, because at least Glimmer has a spine.  
  
She tries not to think about her whole world turning upside down, because as different as Bright Moon is from the Fright Zone, Adora’s still here. Adora’s _here_ , and Shadow Weaver _isn’t_ , and that’s _enough._  
  
Isn’t it?  
  
Catra sighs. She lifts her head off her crossed arms, rolls onto her back, and feels Adora’s warmth against her cheek.  
  
Catra instinctively purrs and nuzzles Adora’s leg. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so achingly familiar.  
  
She catches herself, and frowns. She looks up from where she’s curled up, at the foot of Adora’s bed. She tries not to think about how, even now, she’s still in Adora’s shadow.  
  
She tries. She tries so hard.  
  
Adora stirs to an absent warmth at her feet and a breeze on her face. She looks up just in time to see a tail disappearing out her window.  
  
“Catra!” Adora yelps, bolting to her windowsill. A tree rustles below her, and she catches a glimpse of mismatched eyes.  
  
“Catra!” Adora hisses.  
  
Catra merely curls her lip and slips away.  
  
Catra darts through the trees, savoring the feeling of the wind in her hair. It’s a feeling that’s almost like freedom-- almost, because freedom would mean she was running _to_ someplace, and not just running away.  
  
The world comes alive at her touch. Leaves shimmer as she brushes past; light blooms across tree trunks, the forest shining with the magic in its veins. Bioluminescence paints the world around her in blue, green, and violet, a stunning counterpoint to the Fright Zone’s harsh floodlights and blinking neon.  
  
Catra’s thoughts are a tangle of steel wool scraping out the inside of her skull. She’d thought running would help her forget for a little while. Instead, the ache in her lungs only serves to echo the pounding in her head.  
  
She stops to catch her breath in a little grove, lit by fireflies and will’o’wisps. She sits there, hugging her knees to her chest, and she waits.  
  
She doesn’t know how long she spends, sitting on the grass, lost in the skirl of her own thoughts. However long it is, it’s long enough for her to hear a trail of rustling leaves and crunching undergrowth, and a string of muttered curses.  
  
When Adora bursts into the clearing, red-faced and wheezing, Catra sighs and lifts her head.  
  
“Adora?” she ventures.  
  
Adora’s doubled over, panting, her hands on her knees. She raises a finger for ‘one moment’. Catra’s lips curl into a smirk.  
  
“...What took you so long?”  
  
Adora shoots her a look, and raises a rather different finger. Catra chuckles.  
  
“Catra,” Adora begins, still fighting to catch her breath. “What’s going on? Why did you leave?”  
  
Catra’s lips twist into a frown, and she tears her gaze away.  
  
“...To get some exercise,” she mutters, when she can’t bring herself to say ‘to see if you would follow me’. Adora sighs, seeing through Catra’s deflection like she’s done countless times before.  
  
“You were just going to leave? Without even saying goodbye?” Adora demands.  
  
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Catra snipes.  
  
Adora growls, marches right up and clamps a hand on Catra’s shoulder. Catra whirls around, slapping her hand away.  
  
_“Why?”_ Adora seethes.  
  
“I don’t belong here, Adora!” Catra groans. “This isn’t working out, and you know it!”  
  
“Then _talk_ to me!” Adora huffs, stamping her foot in frustration. “You remember how to talk, don’t you? Instead of going for a melodramatic run through the woods and making me chase after you?”  
  
“Fuck you, Adora!” Catra shoves Adora away with a snarl. “You didn’t _have_ to come after me!”  
  
“Fuck _you_ , Catra!” Adora barks, balling her fists. “...Look, it’s late. Can we just get back to Bright Moon already?”  
  
“Why? Don’t want to keep your _girlfriend_ waiting?”  
  
Adora takes a deep breath, and sighs. “...Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”  
  
“Oh, sure--”  
  
“Why? Did Glimmer say something to you? Because if anybody in Bright Moon is giving you a problem--”  
  
“Stop, Adora. Just _stop_!” Catra snaps, tail flicking to and fro. “Look, I’m not a kid, okay? I can take care of myself! I don’t need you to fight my battles! I don’t need you to _save_ me, Adora!”  
  
“I know that!”  
  
“Then act like it!” Catra groans, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “...Damn it, Adora. I _hate_ that about you.”  
  
All the fight drains out of Adora’s face in an instant. She blinks, stunned, with a look on her face that just about tears Catra in two.  
  
“...you…” Adora murmurs, her voice suddenly very small. “...you _hate_ me…?”  
  
Catra blows out a sigh. “...No, that’s-- that’s not what I meant.”  
  
“Then what _do_ you mean?” Adora pleads.  
  
The hurt in Adora’s eyes churns Catra’s gut. But she has to say this now, before this coal of old resentment fuses and becomes unbreakable.  
  
“I’m tired, Adora,” Catra murmurs. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being second best to you.”  
  
“Catra, I’ve never--”  
  
“Just let me _talk_ , okay?!” Catra seethes, clenching her fists. “Ever since we were kids, you got all the praise, and I got all the punishment. Every time you started something, _I_ would end up in trouble! It was always _my_ fault! And whenever I managed to get something right, _you_ would get all the credit! Adora, Adora, Adora! Shadow Weaver’s favorite! Shadow Weaver’s golden girl!”  
  
Adora winces. “Catra--”  
  
_“Let me finish!”_ Catra snaps, her claws biting into her palms. “And, like, I get it! We were kids, and Shadow Weaver was a manipulative old hag, and that wasn’t _your_ fault, but it still hurt! It still fucked me up for years, Adora! And then, a couple weeks ago, we go on one joyride into the Whispering Woods and somehow, _that’s_ what opens your eyes. You take one look outside the Fright Zone, and suddenly, _now_ you’re all for peace and justice and protecting the innocent! _Now_ you want to stop the Horde from hurting innocent people, when _they’ve been hurting me this whole time!_ ”  
  
“What was I _supposed_ to do, Catra?!” Adora throws her hands up. “Shadow Weaver could kill either one of us without breaking a sweat!”  
  
“Leave! Take me with you! Get us both out of there!”  
  
_“I did!”_  
  
Catra winces, and looks away.  
  
“...You did, didn't you?” Catra admits. “And now here you are. The champion of the Rebellion. And with that sword, now you’re brighter than I could _ever_ be.”  
  
Adora sighs. “...Well... what would you have done? If we’d both stayed, even if we’d both gotten promoted… where would that lead us? We’d still be in the Horde. We’d still have Shadow Weaver looming over our heads.”  
  
“We’d still be together,” Catra says.  
  
“We’re together right now,” Adora whispers. “Aren’t we?”  
  
The silence says more than Catra ever could. Adora reaches out to her, wary. Catra’s tail flicks away at her touch, before curling around Adora’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. Catra sighs, and slumps into the crook of Adora’s shoulder, wordlessly nuzzling. Adora feels the stray tears, hot and wet and stubbornly fought back, smear into her sleeve.  
  
“Catra,” Adora begins, more tender than Catra’s ever heard her. “I… I know that this doesn’t change what happened. But I need you to know that I’ve never thought you were anything less than amazing.”  
  
“Shut up,” Catra smiles.  
  
“It’s true,” Adora insists. “You’re cunning, and witty, and nimble, and you can jump, like, _really_ high. You’re funny, and cute--” Adora clears her throat. “-and I know Shadow Weaver was always putting you down, and saying you should be more like me, but I _really_ admire you.”  
  
Catra barks out a pained laugh. “...You want to be like _me_?”  
  
“I do,” Adora murmurs. “You’re amazing, Catra.”  
  
Catra sighs, shaking her head.  
  
“...Adora… _I_ don’t even want to be like me.”  
  
Adora’s heart sinks like a stone.  
  
“...Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” she asks gently.  
  
Catra raises and lowers one shoulder.  
  
“You could… come with me,” she offers. “Just the two of us against the world. But… I guess you’re busy, now, huh? Fighting for the cause.”  
  
Adora’s eyes flick guiltily over her shoulder, to the spire of Bright Moon palace rising above the trees.  
  
“It could be _your_ cause, too,” Adora pleads. “Fighting the Horde. Protecting the people--”  
  
“I don’t _care_ about some stupid cause!” Catra seethes, snatching herself out of Adora’s arms. Their eyes meet for a long moment.  
  
“...I care about _you_ ,” she finishes, the truth of it burning a hole in her chest.  
  
Adora reaches out, takes Catra’s hand in hers. Catra lets her, twining their fingers together.  
  
“Where will you go?” Adora wonders.  
  
“I don’t know.” Catra shrugs. “Away from the fighting, maybe.”  
  
“Just--” Adora’s voice breaks, and she takes a shuddering breath. “...Just promise me this isn’t goodbye.”  
  
“It _isn’t_ ,” Catra says, resolute. “I just need… space. To figure things out. To find out who I am without you.”  
  
Adora winces, and swallows hard. “...Yeah. Well, um… good luck.”  
  
“Thanks,” Catra smiles.  
  
They stand there, hand in hand, neither of them willing to pull away. Their eyes meet, an age-old question in their eyes. Catra’s tail flits anxiously, curling around the small of Adora’s back. Wisps drift past like embers, shining in the dark.  
  
Then Adora tugs her forward, and steals a kiss.  
  
Their first kiss is like something out of a dream, haloed by light and color blooming in the wood. It’s a shy, chaste, fleeting thing. But then Catra throws her arms around Adora’s neck, and Adora’s hands are in Catra’s hair, and their second kiss becomes something urgent, desperate, filled with longing and the weight of goodbyes.  
  
But this wasn't goodbye. They made a promise, after all.  
  
They part, breathless, and Catra nuzzles Adora’s cheek, Adora holding her tight.  
  
“...you’re purring…” Adora says, a smug grin across her lips.  
  
“Fuck you…” Catra rolls her eyes.  
  
They hold each other, swaying. They know, eventually, Adora will have to make her way back to Bright Moon, and Catra will be out in the world, searching for herself. There’s a whirlwind of complicated feelings spiraling around them both, one that will take time to sort out-- but for now, in this moment, they stand together in the eye of the storm.  
  
The Horde isn’t Catra’s home. Neither is the Rebellion. She isn’t sure if this, whatever this is, could be called ‘home’, either.  
  
But it’s close. Closer than a lot of places.  
  
“Adora?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“I don’t hate you.”  
  
Adora smiles, and laughs.  
  
“...I don’t hate you, too.”  
  
~*~


End file.
